


Grave Flowers

by Eustacia Vye (eustaciavye)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-10
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:36:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eustaciavye/pseuds/Eustacia%20Vye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following orders, Natasha made Loki emotionally dependent on her. She was precious to Loki, and Clint was precious to her. It became an elaborate web of emotional ties, and she's right in the center of it all.</p><p> </p><p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/923830">"In A Dead Land."</a> Also inspired by the prompt  <a href="http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/5758.html?thread=6356862#t6356862">Clint and Natasha have an untraditional relationship. Neither of them will ever admit to being in love, but there's no denying that they make each other feel safe. Their time together exists in stolen moments of honesty between missions. It's not necessarily exciting, but it's always what they need.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moving Target

"So is he coming with you?"

Natasha looked over at Tony Stark, who had his back to her as he contemplated the virtual screens in front of him. Reconstruction of the newly christened Avengers Tower was continuing apace. She supposed that having his back to her meant he trusted her; he'd once commented that she must know at least twenty different ways to kill him barehanded, and she had never actually denied the comment. It was an exercise she did sometimes, to make sure her mind stayed sharp and alert.

Her current count was actually at twenty-two, depending on the location they were in.

"It helps if you actually clarify who you're talking about," Natasha replied dryly, folding her arms over her chest. Her red hair had grown out a little, and it was pulled back into a ponytail today. She was in casual wear, denim jeans and jacket over a plain T shirt emblazoned with the face of some random 80's cartoon character that Clint had insisted was absolutely adorable. She took his word for it, not knowing what a Popple was.

Tony flicked through another two screens, pulling up the schematic for the Black Widow floor. It was closer to the top of the tower, right below Clint's floor and just above Steve's. She appreciated the thoughtfulness of that location, and could see ample gym space on her floor as well as a pistol range. On the floor above, Clint had an archery range. The only way to tell the difference was the amount of baffling and insulation her range had, in order to catch the bullets and keep the lead contamination to a minimum. He would practice pistols and assault rifles on her floor, then.

Hair standing on end thanks to the grease he had accidentally worked into it, Tony didn't bother turning around, just as he hadn't when she first walked into his workshop. As Natasha watched in fascination, he ran his hands through his hair again. It was a move someone would make if frustrated, but he appeared to be fairly serene. He was the type of man that seemed to thrive with a little chaos in his life, if only because it gave him something to build.

"You know, the douchebag lying Asgardian godling that SHIELD thinks they can keep under lock and key. Because we saw how well that worked on the Helicarrier, right?" he said, enlarging the schematic on her floor. "Funny how they think they can keep him under wraps."

"Hacking their feed again?" she asked, no inflection to her tone. She should have expected that. Paranoia was part and parcel of Tony Stark's makeup, though she had to concede that it helped him get results.

"I didn't have to do anything special." Now he turned and she could see the quirk of his lips. "Their tech is still based off of Hammer's work, and Hammer's a talentless hack that couldn't code his way out of a paper bag."

Natasha shrugged, not disagreeing with the assessment; she had hacked her way into their systems many times, and the algorhythms hadn't changed appreciably between her attacks. "And?" she prompted.

"You're essentially Loki's handler."

"And?" she repeated when Tony didn't continue.

She was better at silence than he was. Tony simply didn't have the patience for those kinds of games, though he had learned some after New York. Panic attacks did that to a man, as did nearly losing both his and Pepper's lives.

"All right. So the big funky glass cage didn't hold him. Putting some kind of metal gag over his mouth didn't keep him away," Tony said, turning around fully to face Natasha. "Kinky, and I wouldn't put it past a man with one eye, you know. But he's back, and he's been back for a while now. They think they have him under lock and key. No messy waves from Loki as far as I can tell, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

"You shouldn't," Natasha agreed.

"So. I guess my question is this: Does his new jail cell get transferred here when you move in? Or does he stay over at SHIELD headquarters in midtown?"

It hadn't been discussed at her last meeting with Fury. She had been expecting to get a dressing down for allowing Loki out of his cell to visit Clint in Medical, or for someone to realize that the surveillance footage was off. Neither happened. Fury merely apologized in an oblique manner, stating that he wouldn't doubt her assessment of the Ten Rings the next time she voiced an opinion. Nine agents died in that op, and Clint was nearly number ten. It was only Loki's healing spells that had managed to bring him back fully to health. Medical staff knew they could save his life, but that didn't mean he would have been functional as a field agent again. If Clint couldn't shoot a bow or pistol, it would have shattered him, and Natasha could not allow that.

Never mind that she would have completely shattered as well.

"You're assuming I'm staying here."

"The digs are cushier than SHIELD options, and I can tell you that the security is better."

"JARVIS, of course." 

"The very same," came the AI's voice overhead. "There are redundancies in power supplies and in surveillance and monitoring for all of Mr. Stark's locations and suits, to ensure the safety of all personnel involved. You can be assured, Ms. Romanoff, you will be safe should you choose to reside here."

Very formal speech patterns, in keeping with the relatively cultured tones that Tony had selected for the AI. She wondered if he had deliberately gone for the British butler sound or wanted a replacement father figure.

All right, that was low, even for her. Natasha pushed the thought away as uncharitable, because Tony was trying to be generous here. He was making an overture of friendship the only way he knew how, and she knew that about him. Family was important, and the people he adopted as his would always be important to him, no matter what they did.

"Loki is still an unknown entity," Natasha said slowly.

"That's not what SHIELD thinks."

Natasha nodded. "I'm telling you, he's an unknown entity."

Tony sucked in a breath, understanding what she wasn't saying. "All right. Threat assessment time. Is he going to be giving all of us a mind whammy if he stays here? SHIELD thinks they have him under wraps, but I'm sure he's still capable of _something._ I can put in three foot thick cement block walls somewhere, preferably a basement, and put in piping so I can flood the damn thing at a moment's notice. That'll take care of a threat and make sure it stays down."

If there was one thing life had taught Tony, it was how to be vicious.

"I doubt that will be necessary," Natasha replied evenly. "He has... _attachments."_

"Attachments," Tony repeated dubiously. "Like, hoses and belt buckles and action figure paraphernalia? Because, you know those horn things on that helmet? Smacks of someone needing to compensate for something."

"Emotional attachments," Natasha clarified, dodging the innuendo just as she used to do when she was Natalie Rushman. It really was the only way to deal with Tony sometimes. Dodge or deflect, keep pushing until you got the job done that needed doing.

"Well, it sure as hell isn't Thor," Tony said, now crossing his own arms over his chest. It seemed odd that there was no reactor there any longer. He would still need one to power his suits, but it had always seemed a part of Tony. If he didn't have the arc reactor and his suits, he was still the genius billionaire inventor that tended to piss off the press with his snark and volatile moods. Somehow, Natasha felt that the reactor had humbled him. He knew his mortality. He was reminded of the horrors of the world in a very personal way. Perhaps his panic attacks and nightmares served that same purpose now.

Everyone had their demons. It was all in how they handled them.

"No, it isn't," Natasha said in low tones. "This doesn't leave this room. It doesn't get repeated, it doesn't get joked about. This isn't something that JARVIS saves to use as blackmail material later."

Tony's lips quirked like he was about to make some kind of sarcastic quip. Perhaps the intense look on her face stopped him. Perhaps he had actually matured in the months since New York. Natasha could never really tell with him. "All right. I promise. JARVIS?"

"Duly noted, sir. Additional encryption codes will be in place, Ms. Romanoff."

Natasha nodded gratefully. "Loki's attached to _me._ The choice was deliberately made, and I carried out my orders."

If the sudden stillness and eye blinks were anything to go by, Natasha would guess that she had just shocked the hell out of Tony Stark.

"How did you do that?"

"You didn't see the data streams you hacked out of SHIELD databases?"

"I keep things, okay? Like a magpie," Tony replied defensively, uncrossing his arms. "You never know when you might need something. But no, I don't actually look at everything I take from them. I don't have that much time in the day, and I do actually do other things."

Natasha looked over at the Iron Man prototypes behind him. She had seen the destruction of his Malibu home on news feeds. These were indeed new models, and one looked more suited for Pepper than for Tony, but she kept her mouth shut. "Yes."

"So? How did you do it? Did you promise him anything? Send him flowers? Say something in godlike terms to make him fall in love with you?" Tony snarked.

"No," she said simply, arms still crossed over her chest. She felt small and awful suddenly, remembering the look on Loki's face when he was positioned above her. In a weak moment she had come to him, knowing he would understand what desperation and pain would feel like, the cloying moment when death seemed to be all she was capable of. He had understood it completely, as she thought he would, and he had all but bared his soul to her in that moment. "I manipulated him into it."

Tony looked at her with a measure of doubt. "I know you're good, but…"

"I isolated him and made it clear that I was in control of his captivity." _And I fucked him when he needed it and I fucked him when_ I _needed it,_ she thought, feeling wrung out and hollow. But Tony didn't need to know that part.

"You outwitted the trickster?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of," Tony echoed, looking at her in interest. Would he go back over the files now? Would he look at the video and see just how she manipulated him? She had fed him touch and companionship in measured doses, withdrew whatever other comforts and care when he pushed too far. Natasha had made him reliant on her whims, and somehow her own emotions had genuinely become tangled up with his.

Natasha was precious to Loki, and Clint was precious to Natasha. She wasn't sure how she felt about Loki, but she didn't want him destroying himself on her account. It wasn't precisely the same way he felt about her.

"You're not going to explain that, are you?"

"Absolutely not."

Tony nodded, expecting that. "How does Robin Hood feel about it?"

She didn't even visibly react to the name. "We deal with things as we must."

He looked at her then, really looked, but there was nothing for him to grasp hold of, no tic to let him guess what she was feeling. "But how does he feel about it?" Tony pressed after a moment. "The bastard was in his mind. He took him apart and made him a windup toy to do whatever it was that he wanted. He killed Coulson."

Natasha knew that it took a lot for Tony to even acknowledge Coulson by name rather than some kind of nickname, to own up to the hurt and pain he had felt by Loki's actions. He was staying in New York out of perversion and the need to show others he wasn't affected by the Battle of New York, even if he clearly was still dealing with the fallout. She had seen the footage from the helicarrier and then Battle repeatedly before she had taken on Loki.

"He remembers everything," Natasha said shortly. She remembered the ashen gray cast his skin had taken on around the burns after he returned from Mongolia. Silvadene had been spread over the burns, then Loki had taken on more and spread it in the shape of the _limrunar_ repeatedly. Clint might have felt a burning flash, but it might have just blended in with the other burning pain he already felt. After the initial healing, Loki had returned to add more silvadene _limrunar_ to his body, and a _hugrunar_ to Clint's forehead to be sure he remained as clever as he had been before.

Clint had stared at Loki, not saying a word the entire time. Loki kept his head bent, strokes of silvadene sure and lips straight. There had been no commentary about Natasha or her emotional state, no quip about how Clint had once been bound to his service. He was bound to SHIELD now, tied to Natasha emotionally. There was some kind of unsteady alliance between the three of them, something fragile and impossible to describe with words.

"Steve thinks someone needs to keep SHIELD in line," Tony told her. Natasha didn't startle at the declaration; he had never approved her methods and wasn't pleased with Fury for giving her the assignment in the first place.

"He's honorable," Natasha murmured. She liked Steve, she really did. She didn't need him trying to be overprotective, but she understood his impulse for what it was. He saw her as a friend and comrade, and he would never ask a friend to do something underhanded. It wasn't his way, even if it was hers.

"I suppose," Tony said, a little uncertainty in his tone. "Is it going to be a problem? Is Loki coming here with you?"

She thought of Loki kneeling before her, head bowed, hair curling softly around his pale face. He only _looked_ subservient, and she knew his mind would whir with thousands of possibilities. He didn't like being trapped within his geas, didn't want to be limited as much as he was. There was no way to undo it, no way around it, and now he was bound tightly to Natasha with emotional ties as well.

He belonged to her, even if she didn't know how to feel about that.

"I'll talk to Fury about it and find out," Natasha promised, no inflection in her tone. Tony wasn't satisfied, but it would have to do.

She would also have to talk to Clint.

***

Clint sat in the Infirmary, mind whirring and unable to stop. Natasha's fingers had been entwined with Loki's when he came to, and Steve had stood in the room watching over everyone as if he could keep the world from crashing down around them. Clint liked Steve, and they had bonded over baseball and carnival rides, having skills that were considered anachronistic in this day and age but came in handy far too often. "We can't help but be the kind of men we are," Steve had said with that aw, shucks smile that had the paparazzi swooning every time he was out in public. "This day and age needs a few more old fashioned kind of fellas, don't you think?"

Would an old fashioned kind of fella allow Natasha to fuck Loki for the sake of a mission? Would he simply step aside when he saw her getting just as tangled?

Of course, this was Natasha. There was no allowing her to do anything. She simply did what she thought was necessary, damn the consequences. That made her ruthlessly effective, and she was willing to do just about anything to get the job done. She guarded her memories and her emotions fiercely, but she was still oriented to the mission as the primary objective.

Except where he was concerned, he noticed. This was twice within six months that she had come to rescue him when SHIELD would have left him hung out to dry.

Natasha or Steve had watched over Loki's repeated sessions in the Infirmary. That had made Clint feel more comfortable with the idea, even as his skin crawled under Loki's touch. He hadn't ever touched anyone directly before, from what Clint could recall, but there was the haze of the Tesseract and the magic staff over his memories from that time. He hadn't been possessed, not the way the ghost movies always had it, but he hadn't been the one fully in control of his own actions. It hadn't been _him,_ and that was one thing he had always been able to pride himself on before.

Loki came in, head bent and lips pressed shut, faded scars on his lips. He had known what Asgardian magicians had done to Loki, of course, and Natasha had told him about the scars and what they looked like when he had activated the geas. Clint had wanted to be gleeful at the thought of Loki writhing in pain or seizing, but the thought had made him sick instead. A part of him knew how low Loki would feel in response to that, the helpless rage he could never truly act on. Clint was sickened and jealous of the entire enterprise, especially how Natasha had bedded him repeatedly to ensure his cooperation.

He didn't have the relationship with her that junior agents gossiped about. It wasn't love, not how they talked about it. His world didn't revolve around hers and she didn't think he hung the moon and stars or whatever other bullshit they said to make it sound romantic. He needed her and felt safe around her. She opened up around him. They _trusted_ each other with their lives and thoughts and fears, even if it wasn't always spoken of out loud, and that was far more important than some paltry emotion that could never really be captured right in words.

Clint remained silent as Loki used the same silvadene paste to paint the sigils on his chest, arms, legs and back. His skin was healed, but Loki insisted on continuing the spells to ensure that the new growth beneath the surface would not become charred. "Transference," he had said shortly to the nurse that asked about it. "I work sympathetic magic here."

"Even the dermis must be healed by now," Clint said finally, looking at Loki's bowed head as he painted a sigil on each temple.

"Perhaps," Loki replied, not meeting his eyes. The scars remained faded around his lips, and there was no sign that anything pained him. Not a lie or evasion, then.

"Why do you do this?" he asked sharply. Twice a day rituals for nearly two weeks now. Loki must have felt drained and exhausted, yet he still arrived on time and grabbed a new jar of silvadene to complete the process again.

Now Loki met his eyes. To Clint's surprise, there was no malice there, no regret. He was tired and empty, waiting to belong _somewhere;_ he recognized that same expression from his own glances in the mirror.

"You are precious to her," he said quietly. "I would heal your wings so she could see you fly."

Clint thought about Natasha's own admission before he had left for Mongolia. _You matter to me above all else. I'll walk away if you ask me to._ There had been an earnest determination about her, the need to make him realize she was telling him the truth. He had needed that before leaving, and she had always tried to give him what he needed.

"And what do you feel?" Clint asked, the edge of a rasp to his voice now.

Loki had been an indifferent master, his ire only raised whenever he behaved oddly. In retrospect, that had to be messages from the Chitauri or his own illness, given how pale and sickly Loki had appeared then. Clint recalled the vague sense of wrongness around Loki then, the feeling that he had to be protected from himself as well as the rest of the world. There had been a righteousness in him when he heard Loki's plans, when he tried to help further them and give more details. That had been the Tesseract's control, but the caring had been pulled out of the depths of his own soul.

He had always rooted for the underdog, always tried to bring out the best in others.

Loki searched Clint's expression, perhaps trying to see if he was mocking him. There was nothing there but open curiosity that Clint didn't bother to hide, and Loki seemed to visibly relax. "She is as precious to me as she is to you," Loki admitted quietly.

That startled Clint a little, not expecting that. Of course, it had been Natasha's aim the entire time, but to realize it worked as well as she intended was still a shock. "She is," he said numbly, more for the sake of saying something than meaning to acknowledge it.

"Would you kill me?" Loki asked in that same quiet tone. Clint had always associated it with funerals and gravesites for some reason. This conversation wasn't dissuading him from that association at all. "I was sure that you would rend the flesh from my bones if she would let you, or let loose an arrow into my heart."

"I don't have a bow," Clint replied without thinking.

Loki paused, the corner of his lip twitching slightly. Clint wasn't sure if it was an attempt to smile or if he was truly afraid for his life. "And if you did?"

Clint licked his lips, watching Loki's long fingers paint another sigil across the healed skin of his arm. He wasn't angry, he realized suddenly. He had been so furious he nearly choked with it at first, and jealous that he would lose his place with Natasha if Loki crowded into her. But she was the same as she ever was, and their relationship hadn't changed at all. It burned that he was no more than a tool Loki saw fit to use, that he had harmed so many people he had cared about when he wasn't in control of himself. That would always pain him, but he wasn't entirely angry with Loki anymore. He was just as broken as Clint was, and Clint had never been able to destroy broken things.

"I don't think I would use it now," he said, a gentle note in his voice.

Some tension seemed to leach out of Loki's bent stance. "I appreciate that."

"You harm her, and I will."

Loki nodded. "If I do, I will let you."

Clint gave him a sharp nod of understanding, and let him work in silence. The sting of the healing spell didn't seem to burn any longer.

***

Natasha stood in the doorway to Clint's room in the Infirmary, watching him sleep. He was calmly breathing, and he was safe. _He was safe._ There might have been a nightmare the night before about him returning to her from Mongolia as nothing more than a burnt husk. Just standing there, her breathing fell into sync with his. Without really meaning to, she walked into the room and sat at the edge of his bed, still watching him sleep. No one was on duty outside, and someone had to keep watch, just in case.

For some reason, that made her think of Loki. _There are creatures in the dark,_ he had told her, _shadows made flesh, horrid nightmares waiting to devour you whole._

He had been talking about the various denizens of different realms that he had angered, monsters and aliens of all walks that he now hid from. It was a sentiment that she could identify with, however. Humans naturally were afraid of the dark, of the unknown, of the creeping things they couldn't defend against. Natasha would never leave Clint undefended if she could help it.

She had told him that grounding himself would keep him whole. She knew from experience that it was the only way to keep herself _Natasha,_ rather than splintering into a different personality she had once been programmed to be. Fragments remained at times, memories of what the Red Room had done and forced her to be. Those lost lives still remained with her, pieces scattered across her past that would never be reclaimed or made whole. They weren't real, and half the time she wasn't sure if she was, either.

No, that wasn't entirely accurate. Natasha knew who she was, who she had to be and what needed to get done. She also knew there were only those rare souls that she could trust implicitly, that handful of people that she felt safe around.

Clint stirred when she laced her fingers through his. It was such a soppy move on her part, but she couldn't help it. Fury was authorizing their move into Avengers Tower at Tony's insistence, and was willing to authorize Loki's move as well.

"You told him you're his handler, and you're definitely doing more than Sitwell is on this one," he had told her flatly. "If you need more constant supervision, you'll have it. You've gotten results with him, and I'm willing to bet he won't make a move if you don't let him."

"That's what you wanted, sir," Natasha had told him evenly. As much as she enjoyed the obvious trust Fury had in her, a smaller and distant part of her hated how much she had needed that. He looked on her as something of a protégé, perhaps, though Hill was his heir apparent to run SHIELD when he saw fit to retire. He was likely grooming her to become an agent like Coulson, capable of handling just about anyone and anything. A part of her looked forward to that, craving the identity and stability. Another part wanted to disappear and never look back; that would sever any ties she had built, and it would be one less weakness that could be used against her.

But she hadn't acted on that hidden part of herself, merely nodded and murmured something noncommittal about it falling into place to benefit SHIELD. Fury didn't think anything was amiss, and closed the meeting by saying he would talk to Tony Stark.

She could imagine Loki twined about her body in a soft bed, his fingers lightly stroking her skin to reassure himself that she hadn't disappeared. She could imagine Clint in that same bed, hands tucked behind his head and a sloppy grin on his face as they recounted one adventure after another. Either scenario felt comfortable, but hands down she knew which one she could rely on to feel whole.

Clint stirred, eyes fluttering open slightly. "Tasha," he said, voice thick with sleep.

"I'm here."

His lips curled into that sweet smile no one else ever saw. "Knew you'd be here. You always got my back."

"Someone has to keep your fool head on your shoulders."

He laughed at her dry tone, pulling her down a little. Natasha shifted to lie down beside him on the hospital bed, careful not to tug on the lines and leads meant to make sure his heart beat remained steady and his oxygenation levels remained optimal. Loki may have promised he would heal Clint, but no one in the Infirmary trusted him. As much as it rankled a little, that was as it should be.

"You were right about Mongolia, you know," Clint murmured, winding his fingers through some loose tendrils of her hair. "Never thought I'd hear Fury say it."

"He was here, then?"

"Nearly apologized," Clint replied with a nod.

Natasha snorted, able to imagine that. Clint cracked a smile, letting his fingers drop to her cheek. "I had to come back. I promised you."

She let her hand fall to his chest, feeling the steady heartbeat as well as the rough plastic of the monitor leads. "You did."

He ignored the voice thick with emotion, choosing instead to pull her down for a kiss. "I actually feel fine. No one trusts it."

"They wouldn't," Natasha agreed quietly.

"I don't think he'll hurt me. You mean too much to him," Clint told her seriously.

Natasha closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. "Yes."

"You didn't mean for that to happen, not like that," he guessed.

"No," she admitted with a sigh.

Clint wound his fingers through her hair, holding her as close as he dared. She wanted to push him away, to leave the room and deny they were even having this conversation, but that would be too much of a coward. He deserved better than that.

"He means something to you now, too," Clint continued.

"Something," Natasha hedged.

He sighed and shifted so that he could press his lips to her forehead. "Tash."

"Stark wants us all to move into Avengers Tower," she said, not wanting to hear whatever he was about to say. She didn't want to talk about Loki. She didn't want to analyze her feelings, try to put a name to what he was or what he could be, what it would mean to her relationship with Clint. She needed Clint like she needed to breathe, Loki like she needed to lie. One was essential, one was sometimes a necessary evil.

"And what did you want?"

"I'm sure Fury wants us to watch over him and the Avengers Initiative. Moving in would satisfy that requirement." Natasha kept her voice serious but fairly bland. "He's authorizing Loki's transfer if I want it."

Clint went still beneath her. "Wait. _Loki?"_

Natasha nodded, confirming he hadn't misheard her. "Stark would put him on my floor."

"Jesus, fuck. Just because I don't hate him or want to kill him doesn't mean I want to see him every damn day."

She remained quiet in response, simply tilting her head so that she could drag her lips across his cheekbone. Clint sighed a little, tightening his hands in her hair. "I can't forget. I can't forgive. I'm not angry, not really. I won't kill the lying, manipulative bastard, but I can't forget either."

"I would never ask you to."

"Then what _are_ you asking me to do?"

"Tell me what you want."

 _I'll walk away if you ask me to. I'll let it all go, I won't stop you._ The words hung between them, no need to repeat them.

"I want _you,"_ Clint rasped after a moment, one hand tight on the back of her neck as if he could pull her inside of his body to keep her safe. "I don't want to share you. I don't want to second guess what's happening between us. I want _us_ the way we always are, nothing but truth between us." His grip tightened, and she would have bruises in the morning. "Past that, it won't matter."

"It will," she disagreed. She knew him by now, the nooks and crannies of his soul that he didn't want to recognize. "It matters that you can't forgive."

"Would you want me to?" Clint asked.

"I don't forgive the Red Room," she answered, obliquely answering his question.

"But you live with it."

"Some call it a gift that they gave me, these skill sets."

"Some would call it monstrous."

"I follow the rules when they suit me," Natasha murmured, feeling uncomfortable. It was that gaping, empty maw inside her chest opening wide again, threatening to devour her whole.

Clint seemed to sense her discomfort, shifting his touch to her shoulders, drawing her flat against him. She wouldn't dream of fucking him in the Infirmary, as much as she needed it to feel grounded, but the Avengers Tower would be a completely new place and JARVIS would keep her secrets if she asked him to.

"We'll make them suit you, Tash. We'll figure something out."

"Fury will send him over."

"We'll figure something out," Clint repeated stubbornly.

And really, there was no other option. They each needed the other to feel whole.

***

Natasha was empty and hollow, a lithe body moving almost of its own volition. She wore nothing but a clip in her hair, and she crossed the room to slither across Clint's sprawled body on the bed. It was massive, the only piece of furniture in the room, done up in eight hundred thread count sheets that were the same shade of purple of his Hawkeye costume. That was possibly Tony Stark's way of cracking another joke at his expense, but the rest of the room was cream colored walls and teak flooring, crown molding and easy access to the ductwork in case he had need to leave suddenly. For now he was simply in gray sweat suit bottoms, arms and limbs flung in every which way.

He watched her closely, but Natasha was used to that questioning gaze. He clearly wanted to ask her if she was all right, but he wouldn't. Not now, not when her approach looked smooth and steady, not when every motion spoke of confidence and cunning. He couldn't see the doubt lurking beneath her breastbone, a coiled thing ready to unfurl if she let it loose. He followed her command to get rid of the plain sweat suit bottoms, a cheeky grin on his face, and Natasha pushed aside any lingering doubts she had about what they had between them. It wasn't changed at all. Her fears were for nothing.

Clint touched her reverently as she climbed onto the bed, her skin dragging along his. She needed his touch, needed to know he was all right, her nightmares of ashes and the walking dead were not true. His hands on her skin and his cock between her legs and his tongue inside her mouth were truth. This was real, this was real, this was _real._

"Natasha," he breathed against the swell of her breasts, the rough calluses of his fingers rubbing against the curve of her spine. "Natasha."

Prayer, benediction, grace. They gave each other all these things. It was so much more than love, that paltry, limited term. It couldn't apply properly to what they had.

She refused to think of Loki, of the way his hands spread her wide or the way his tongue curled into her. It was different from Clint's touch, raw and needy and desperate due to the skin hunger Loki still had at times. She refused to compare them, label her feelings or categorize them neatly. It wouldn't be fair to any of them.

Natasha rode Clint hard and fast, his fingers digging into her hips and urging her on. He was buried to the hilt inside her, obscene squelching noises the only counterpoint to their ragged breaths. She was ready to let go, to dissolve into him, to pour herself into his embrace and forget about the complex, tangled web she had woven around them. Throwing her head back and squeezing her eyes shut, she lost herself in the sensation until she flew apart.

He cradled her afterward, and she allowed it this time. "Hey. I missed this," he commented, his arms resting gently on her shoulders.

"Yeah, me too." Her voice was soft, lips quirking up into an unguarded smile. "You know it must be bad if I miss you hogging the covers."

"I do not!" he protested, laughing hard enough to shake her on his chest.

It felt good to laugh with him again, to be silly and not have to guard herself so tightly against possible threat. "Stark has good taste," she murmured, running her fingers over the fabric they were lying on. She then ran her fingers along his muscled arm. "Say whatever you like about his personality, but he knows quality."

"He invited us here, didn't he?" Clint snarked.

Natasha laughed a little, nodding. She shifted so that she could fit her chin to the curve of his shoulder, the better to breathe in the scent of him. She was surrounded by the essence of Clint, and it helped her to feel a little more real. She wasn't a fragmentary woman with piecemeal memories and clockwork emotions. For this little space of time, they could be honest and rely on each other to remain so.

"He's the kind that thinks he has to buy his friends."

"He probably used to," Clint guessed. "All that money won't buy humility, and there's always been someone after his money or his company, after all."

Snuggling closer into Clint's embrace, Natasha nodded against his shoulder. She liked the feel of his hands across her skin, feeling _her,_ not whoever she needed to be for a job. It was nice, something she used to be wary of when she first escaped the Red Room.

Though thinking of the Red Room now made her think of Loki.

 _Perhaps we're all caught in this web you spun, little spider,_ Loki had said. _There were more consequences than we ever thought possible._

She was usually good at seeing the consequences, of planning too many steps ahead. She had known that he would become reliant on her, that he would grow emotionally attached to her. That had been the point, after all. She hadn't expected to feel comfortable around him, to care anything for him. There was no way to ask now, but Natasha was sure her former handlers at the Red Room had never cared about her wellbeing, never thought of her as anything more than a programmable tool. Perhaps that was why she sometimes thought of herself as soulless. Clint was one of the few who believed otherwise, and she needed that reminder from him more than she would ever want to admit.

"Do you think it would be awkward?" Clint asked her, fingers trailing down her spine. "Living together with them, reporting back to SHIELD, Loki hanging around..."

"Probably," Natasha answered with a sigh. "They mean well, at least. They aren't looking to categorize everything we say, try to make something out of nothing. I think Tony genuinely cares about the lot of us."

"Would Loki find a way to destroy them?"

Natasha shut her eyes, feeling a weariness creep into her. So much for the sense of release and peace she had just gotten. "Finding a way and using it are two different things. If he finds one, I don't think he'll use it."

"Because he cares for you."

"Yes." She ran her fingers down his chest, tracking the smooth skin. "He needs this to work. He can't stand the isolation, either. They tried to break him on Asgard, and on some level, they might have succeeded."

"On some level?"

"He's damaged. Not completely crazy, but damaged and trying to put himself back together again. That's why he's fixated on me."

Clint's free hand was otherwise occupied stroking her back. "You don't like that, now that you see what it looks like," he guessed.

"How am I any different from what you took me away from?"

"You're asking that question, Tash. That makes you _very_ different."

Natasha breathed out, feeling her tension bleed from her bones. "I won't be them, Clint."

"And I'll be here to remind you of that whenever you need it."

***  
***


	2. Up In Flames

Clint enjoyed sitting on his perch along one of the rooftops of Avengers Tower. That high above midtown Manhattan, he could see for miles in every direction and feel as though he could protect those he cared about. Natasha had gone in to report to Fury, and Loki more or less had been told he wasn't allowed to leave the Tower without her permission. Clint hadn't wanted to cross paths with him, and his perch seemed like a good place to be.

Damn. There was Loki, in dark slacks and a soft green shirt, his hair loose and standing out against the pale skin of his face. He strode out onto the rooftop, eyes on the skyline. His footfalls didn't even falter when he saw Clint on the edge, and he changed direction slightly so that he could approach Clint.

Something white hot that wasn't exactly rage flared to life inside his chest. What could Loki possibly have to say to him? They'd already come to a truce of sorts, and that had already taken a lot out of him. Had he come to gloat? Laugh about how he slept on Natasha's floor of the Tower? Insinuate that Natasha didn't need him anymore?

"This afternoon is a calm one," Loki commented.

Small talk? Really?

"Yeah," Clint replied finally, not sure what else he could say.

"This is hardly the place to practice archery skills."

The bow in his hand was more for the comfort of holding it again. He didn't have his quiver and arrows, but the collapsible bow could still be used to pistol whip someone with fairly good force if he put his mind to it.

"I don't always practice with the bow."

It obviously puzzled Loki, and he stood there for a moment taking in the view. "Natasha cares for you," he began slowly. "You are her hawk, and she values you more than life itself."

The words made him uncomfortable, especially because they were true. Bristling at him, Clint shot up to his feet. Loki merely stared at him, as if he didn't know how much those words cut at him. Or maybe he knew and just didn't care. The bastard had been in his head six months ago, and he knew everything that Clint did. Remembering that feeling now made his blood run cold, sweat breaking out along his spine. He wanted to throw Loki off of the roof and watch him spatter across the concrete below. "Just because I won't kill you where you stand doesn't mean I like you. Don't think we're friends," Clint told Loki, an edge to his tone. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did to me."

Loki had a twitch in the corner of his mouth. "Your name is apt," he began slowly, looking past Clint toward the skyline. "Do you know of falconry?"

"What the hell does that have anything to do with—"

"Hawks are hooded, bound with jesses." Loki turned to look at Clint then, gaze sharp. "They're _trained,_ not tamed. None could truly tame a hawk, or believe it won't take an opportunity to harm the falconer if mistreated. You were never tamed, Hawkeye. It was never the intent."

"Then what was it?" he asked tightly. "You unmade who I was—"

"I made you mine," Loki interrupted, his voice just as soft as before. "But it was only your loyalties that I changed."

Clint glared at him, jaw clenched. "You had me kill fellow agents."

"I claimed you from the start because of the heart you carry. You may have killed in my name, but I suspect anyone else I may have chosen would have been far more ruthless in the endeavor. You didn't shy from battle, Hawk, but neither did you seek it out." Loki turned and looked back over the skyline. His posture was stiff, fingers twitching as if he wanted to clench them into fists. "It would not pain you so if you did not have heart."

"What do you get out of being here?" Clint demanded. "You wouldn't willingly submit to a geas like the one they put on you."

"No, I did not," Loki agreed, voice clipped.

When no further answer seemed forthcoming, Clint nearly growled at him. "What do you get out of being here?"

Loki didn't move, didn't answer for the longest time. "Have you any idea what the passage of time is like on Asgard? They don't speak of it, the cells beneath the palace. They don't talk of the sages they bring in to wind their spells about the rooms. Not even in whispers. Those are the forgotten places, where the worst of the monsters are kept." There was an undercurrent of loathing in his voice, and he finally looked over at Clint. "Oh, yes, Hawk, I know myself to be the monster they name me. I know the loathing they heap upon my name, the lies they assign my name, even ones I never spoke. I know it all. They took great pleasure in recounting them as they took their spells and burned them into my skin, threaded their needles and drew it through resisting flesh."

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?" Clint asked when Loki stopped.

"You feel what you wish. That is what happened on Asgard. Can you imagine now why I would submit to your superiors?"

"Do you really submit?" Clint challenged.

Now Loki's lips stretched wide into a smile, mockery blatant to see. "They believe I do, and it's the appearance of the thing."

Clint understood that his loyalty would be to Natasha at this point, perhaps to him after a fashion because she clearly valued him. _She is as precious to me as she is to you,_ Loki had said, as serious as he had ever seen him. "What happens if they think you're too dangerous?" Clint asked after a long, uncomfortable moment.

"They once believed you to be, from what I understand, and it was certainly what they thought of our little spider," Loki murmured. He took a half step toward Clint, not menacing enough to activate his geas, but enough to crowd into his personal space. "I remember what we once spoke of, Hawk. I remember a good many things, some better forgotten, but that I do remember. Your masters here were the safer option to take."

In other words, they weren't necessarily allies or friends, but they weren't enemies.

Refusing to back down, Clint set his jaw and stared down the fallen god. Loki looked away first, to his surprise.

"I won't kill you," Clint said, voice rough with frustration and a dozen tangled emotions he didn't know how to name. "But I don't like you and we're not friends."

"No, we are not," Loki agreed, shoulders slumping a bit. It reminded Clint of the vague, hazy memories he had when he was first taken over, the Tesseract sifting through his memories and changing them. Loki had seemed ill and exhausted, defeat in his stance if not his spirit. He had the same body language now.

Not knowing what to say, Clint left him on the rooftop.

***

Natasha found Loki sitting next to the window, staring out over the city skyline. "Clint said you've spoken," she began, coming into his room.

"After a fashion," he replied. His voice sounded listless to her ears, and Natasha held on tightly to her emotions. She was frustrated enough by this entire situation, she didn't need him pouting because she valued Clint above all else. "He made it clear what he believes of me."

"Which is?"

"I am a soulless monster. A murderer. A torturer." He remained looking out of the window, as if he couldn't bear to see her expression.

Walking up behind him, Natasha put a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing almost of their own accord. "As I am. As he is, also. You've said my ledger is dripping with red, that he's no more virtuous than myself."

"I was trying to hurt you. Wound you with words. Those were the only weapons I had left, my staff in your possession to twist your emotions."

Natasha let her fingers trail over the skin of his throat. "I know. But truth doesn't wound me in the way that you hoped."

"And now..." He lifted a hand to touch the back of hers. "I gladly hold you here, offer you my throat. Is this not what you wanted? Are you not pleased?"

Yes. No. Not like this.

His hand fell back into his lap when she remained silent. "You are not pleased."

"It's been an exhausting day."

Loki's eyes opened as he turned around in his chair to look at her. His hands snaked out to touch her. "And you are not with your Hawk."

"I was. I'm here now."

Something flashed across his features like jealousy, though he tamped down hard on it. Natasha approved of that, and gently stroked his face. He blinked, startled, nostrils flaring slightly as she leaned in and straddled his seated form. "What do you intend?"

"Nothing," she murmured. "Just being here."

Looping his arms around her, Loki rested his head against her chest. Natasha ran her fingers through his soft hair, stroking his scalp lightly. He made a soft contented noise, rather like a cat, and she smiled gently. She rather doubted that anyone would have thought him capable of this, that he could sit still and be at peace.

"Your heart is calm," Loki commented as she dropped her chin to the crown of his head. "Does this help with your day?"

"Yes," she murmured, continuing to stroke his hair. One hand slid down to his back, nails rubbing lightly along his spine. "I don't enjoy endless briefings and meetings. I prefer action."

"Will those meetings not result in further missions into the field?"

"Probably. They may not involve you," she reminded him.

"I would remain here until your return," Loki murmured with a sigh. One of his hands at her back tightened, as if he could hold her in place forever. "You haven't given leave for more."

"I suppose I don't want the others to try attacking you," Natasha said with a sigh, hearing the thread of discontent in his voice. "They say they'll accept you, but I don't trust it."

"Your trust does not come easily."

"No, it doesn't."

Loki turned his head just enough to press his lips to her skin. He didn't ask if he had her trust, which she appreciated. Natasha wasn't sure what she would answer, anyway. He lifted the back of her shirt from her jeans and touched her skin almost reverently. Looking up at her, he had an almost lost expression on his face. "I trust you," he said finally. "I trust that your hawk will not kill me, though he may fantasize of such things. But you... Even when you could have been, you were not cruel, not really. Harsh, distant perhaps, but you did not revel in my pain when I activated the geas. I've seen your compatriots, and they did enjoy the sight of my pain."

"There's no point to further torture. The dead are still dead, and you've been working on your own balance. You've paid for your crimes."

"Have I really?" he asked quietly, a hard edge to his tone that she hadn't heard in a very long time. It made her wonder what kinds of thoughts rolled about in his head when he was left alone throughout the day.

"Punishment was handed down by Odin, correct?" He nodded stiffly. "You still have the geas stitched into your skin. You're working with SHIELD." Natasha paused. "Perhaps it's more correct to say that you're _paying_ for your crimes. When the term is done, Odin will lift the geas. That's my understanding of it."

His fingers traced a sigil on her skin, though she didn't know what it was. "Do you believe I can? Do you truly believe I can?"

"I have to. I'm working to balance my own ledger, after all." Her voice was dry, causing him to smile in acknowledgement. "It's dripping with red, as you've pointed out. There's no way to erase it, but a balance can be achieved if I try." She cupped his face in her hands. "If you try, you can balance your ledger as well. It's a matter of choice. You choose how to use your skills, and you choose where your loyalties lie."

"You make it sound simple."

"It can be. Just ignore the bullshit that doesn't apply to what you need to do."

He laughed, a bitter, ugly sound that grated on Natasha's nerves. Loki lowered his head back to her chest, mouthing the exposed skin above her shirt. "They've made it clear, I should do whatever it takes to please you."

"Is that what this is?" she asked carefully, voice neutral.

He raised his head again, and something fierce shone in his eyes. "No, little spider. They could not have forseen _this,_ and I doubt they would allow such a thing. Let them think you appease me with your flesh. Let them think it is simple release. Part of you is _mine,_ and I will not relinquish such a thing. I would not have them pry or question our connection and seek to destroy it."

She cupped his face in her hands again and kissed his nose gently. "I don't discuss the particulars, and I know Clint won't. He'd rather not even think of it."

Loki's expression was troubled. "And if it disturbs him too much, would you loosen your hold on me? Would you transfer my care to another?"

"No," Natasha said, voice firm. But she had said she would walk away. She had said she would leave it all behind. Clint had refused the offer three times now, mostly because he understood where her loyalties were and that she couldn't simply walk away. "He won't ask me for that."

"But he _could..."_

"He won't," she interrupted, her grip on his face tightening fractionally. He stilled beneath her hands, much as he had in the first cell. "He won't," she repeated, voice softer.

"What does this mean, then? The three of us in balance?"

Shit, she hadn't wanted to label this. She hadn't wanted to discuss it.

Knowing it was a chickenshit way to deal with the question, Natasha released Loki to pull off her shirt. "It means we're in balance. It means what we want it to," she said finally. There was no mistaking the hungry look in his eyes, even though he remained still. _It means you're both mine, however much good that will do you,_ she thought, reaching behind her to unhook her bra. It was a simple scrap of fabric with lace trim, but Loki's expression made her feel as though she was deliberately trying to seduce him.

His mouth latched onto one breast as if she was a lifeline. Right now, she probably was. Other than interacting with her or Clint, he was still isolated. Her floor was simply a larger cage to be kept in, and she didn't kid herself on that point. Loki had to want more than that, but wasn't going to ask in case this limited freedom would be whisked away. She had done her job in his prior cells only too well.

Natasha threaded her fingers through his hair again, curling around him and holding him close. Her breath was growing harsh with want, and Loki let his fingers trail down her ribcage to her waist, tracing the skin just above the waistband of her jeans. Letting go of him, she slid off his lap and undid her jeans. She slid them down along with her panties, and Loki watched her avidly. This was no striptease, but he was clearly aroused. He undid the laces at his breeches as he stood, eyes dark with desire, and he grasped her about the waist. He lifted her up as he pulled her closer, and wound up pressing her back against the glass of the window. Kissing and nipping at her neck and mouth, Loki waited until she was slippery with need before thrusting into her. It was over too soon for her to find release, but she didn't mind. Natasha stroked his back and scratched his scalp lightly, waiting until he found his equilibrium again.

"I care for your welfare, little spider," he murmured into her temple. "I would not have harm come to you by my actions or inactions."

"I know," she replied, knowing it to be true.

"Using your hawk before... I know this pains him, so it pains you."

"It gets less intense with time," she said as deflection.

Loki gently helped her down to her feet, fingers tenderly stroking her skin. "You speak from experience," he observed.

"Yes."

"You don't forgive them."

"There's hardly anyone left to forgive. I've killed most of them or caused them to be killed. The ones that are left aren't worth the anger."

Eyes searching her face, Loki nodded slowly. "And so your hawk will not forgive me."

"There are many that won't."

He slid his hand along her waist, pulling her from the window and tucking her against his body. "And what of you, little spider? Would you be able to forgive me?"

She laid her hand on his chest, lip curling in the corner a little when he leaned into the touch, an intent expression on her face. "You're earning your redemption, Loki. That's the way toward forgiveness. There's no forgiveness for the Red Room because they didn't believe they were wrong, never sought forgiveness and wouldn't accept it even if I was able to give it."

"Then perhaps, there is hope that our balance may be maintained," he murmured before leaning in for another kiss.

***

Fury called in his top SHIELD agents as well as Tony Stark, though it looked as though he regretted that as soon as the billionaire arrived. He strolled in with a swagger as if he owned the place and already knew what everyone was going to discuss. Then again, given the information he regularly siphoned off of SHIELD servers, he likely did. Fury shot him a pinched look, lips compressed together, and glared. The glare slid right off of Tony like water off a duck's back, and he lounged in the seat he was offered.

Sitting at attention beside Clint and a newly promoted Level 8 agent, Natasha paid attention to the tick in Fury's jaw, knowing that the information presented wouldn't be good.

"We have word in the Ukraine that the Ten Rings are starting to move into the local mafia trade routes. Preliminary teams sent there haven't come back," he added, looking as though he had bitten into something foul.

"Preliminary teams?" Clint asked, his voice deceptively low and mild. Natasha suppressed the urge to reach over and touch his wrist.

Appearing visibly discomfited, Fury nodded. "Two disappeared without a trace. A third managed to send out a distress call." He tapped out a command on the virtual screen beside him, and the silence around them crackled with static. "...tracked the molfar down... shit, something trigg—I don't know... thing is, Henry—" Incoherent, panicked screaming filled the room before the signal was abruptly cut off.

One of the agents shuddered and nearly looked like he was going to be sick.

"Molfar?" Tony asked, eyebrows raised.

"Sorcerers," Natasha said, a thread of respect in her tone. "White or black magic, depending on the practitioner, and tales sometimes called them demigods because of their power. The old tales maintain that they know the secrets of the four elements, to raise storms or the dead, could shape shift, cure illnesses or drive men insane."

"Apparently, they're not just stories," one of the other agents commented. Natasha nodded slowly, a grave expression on her face. The agent turned away.

"So. In other words, the Ten Rings would be all over this, especially after that last debacle six months ago," Tony said, eyes flicking over to Clint.

"The amulet was their big gun," Clint said, a hard edge to his voice. "Taking it out destroyed the team and a twenty mile radius."

"So either the Ten Rings tracked someone down who can make another one, or they're looking to coerce a molfar into creating a new weapon."

"Considering the power they have," Natasha said dryly, "that would take a lot of coercion. There really isn't anyone who would want to try crossing a molfar if they can help it."

"No one said the Ten Rings had any sense," Tony cut in. "I mean, look at the weapon they had before. Horribly unstable as a power source, took out five times as many of their own guys as it did ours. And they want to do this _again?_ They'll wipe themselves out for us."

"And possibly take out a continent or two along the way," Fury said, glaring at Tony. "You're here because last time your sensors caught a power surge ten minutes before the amulet exploded and killed our men. I want you to scan the Ukraine for a similar signature."

"I suppose this means the rest of us are team number four to go in and find out what happened?"

Fury nodded at Clint. "Yes."

His jaw was tighter than usual, and he stared at Fury for a long moment. "They fight with the intent to kill. Not maim, not disable. _Kill._ Their belief is absolute. There is no other way but their way."

"We've become aware of that," Fury said, not breaking eye contact with Clint. Natasha had told them how to handle the Ten Rings, but he had dismissed her concern. He had been sure a ten man team would have been good enough for the first cell they uncovered. Now this one had eliminated three other teams of unknown numbers and skill sets, and would be on the alert for more coming after them. "You will do whatever is necessary to contain them."

"Wait, what does that even—?" Tony began, picking up on the grave undertones in Fury's voice.

"Redline mission?" Natasha asked, eyebrow raised. SHEILD didn't usually authorize those.

"Whatever means necessary, agents. I want them contained and I want you back alive. The last two teams had similar orders, but they may not have thought it necessary to go that far."

"Wait," Tony interrupted again, looking perturbed. "You mean kill them?"

"What do you think they'll do to you?" Natasha asked him. "They're not going to invite you over to look at your tech."

Tony blinked and looked away; it reminded her that he had his own demons now, and she couldn't judge him on this. "Yeah, well. Sounds different from Boss Man Fury, you know? I didn't think he did kill orders."

"We're keeping people safe and protecting the planet from those that plan to destroy it," Fury said in a clipped tone. "Think you can track down that magic signature?"

"Sir," Natasha interrupted. "There's the obvious individual you haven't brought here."

Clint was very still, but didn't say a word in opposition. Fury looked from Natasha to Clint, then back at her. "You think that Loki's skills are necessary?"

"He's a magician," Natasha said flatly. "We won't be able to fight magic without magic of our own, and we don't have anyone else."

With a pinched expression, Fury nodded. "Then take him with you. I want the Ten Rings shut down by any means necessary."

Tony at least waited until the meeting was over before he rounded on Natasha. "Can he be trusted? You called him an unknown entity."

"He'll protect the team if I tell him to," she replied evenly. "He doesn't have to like you, and you don't have to like him."

He leveled an assessing gaze on her, then at Clint. "Is this a wise decision?"

"Magic can do anything. I wasn't exaggerating the tales of the molfar. Word had spread into Russia, and they're more than just tales. The Red Room couldn't eliminate them, so they simply stayed out of the Ukraine."

Clint let out a breath and looked over at the other three agents with them. They seemed to be discomfited by this, but would do what was asked of them. Any SHIELD agent would. He wondered how many had already died taking out the Ten Rings cell, and why Fury had waited so long on this. Possibly because he had nearly died at their hands, and even Fury sometimes took individuals' needs into consideration.

"We need a game plan. We'll let Tony figure out a way to track them, and in the meantime we need to know how to attack them and what to do to defend themselves." He turned to Natasha, expression determined. "Get Loki. We'll need him on this."

***

The magic signal was located high in the Carpathian mountains, right where the densest tales of the molfar were located. Tony had seen fit to point out the movie made about one, the band that took on the name and various newspaper articles about benevolent molfars who had healed locals of their illnesses. "Probably isn't our guy," he said, scrolling through the list of names he had collected as he worked on his sensor array. "'Cause you know, the whole not killing thing. Doesn't sound like killing so many agents is good for white magic karma."

"It generally would not be," Loki replied, voice bland. "Their magicks are dependent on the type of forces they wish to manipulate."

"So we're talking death mage now," Tony said, looking over from the list. At Loki's nod, he put the list away. "What kind of magnitude are we talking about, then?"

"The last amulet was charged with two adult deaths and one unborn child's. It killed nine agents, seventeen Ten Rings soldiers and I was able to feel a power displacement from my cell. Now we have the possibility of an item charged with the deaths of at least thirty people." Loki looked at him blandly. "You tell me what kind of magnitude that would be."

"Fuck," Tony muttered, then went back to the program with his calculations. He was going to stay on the Quinjet at Fury's request, and he was ready to comply in this case. "Magic tends to fry out delicate circuitry," he had said at the time.

Clint looked over at Loki. "Can you sense the thing now?"

Loki appeared calm, but Clint could see tension and fear beneath the façade. He didn't know if it was for the unknown magic device or because he was in this company. Prior outings had been just him and Natasha. Still, Clint was glad that Natasha was piloting the Quinjet rather than bearing witness to his disquiet. "There is a sense of unease, but I cannot locate the device for you. Perhaps I could disable it, but more than likely it would involve detonation."

Pale and still, Clint nodded. He looked over at the other three agents with him, all skilled in hand to hand and ranged combat weapons. His last team had been, too, but the amulet had gone off like a bomb. None of them could outpace that. They knew it, and were treating this more like a suicide mission. It could very well be, given the outcome for the last three teams.

Natasha landed the Quinjet at the closest facility that she could, but it was still a sixty mile trek through the mountains to the area that Tony outlined. He was supposed to remain behind on the Quinjet, but Clint wasn't exactly surprised to see him suiting up to follow them. "Just in case," Tony said, as if Fury hadn't forbidden it. Clint had thought he acquiesced too easily. "You never know when you might need a few repulsor blasts."

"Have a care what you destroy with it," Loki said quietly. "We do not know what they have poured this energy into. Until we know, treat everything delicately."

The trek through the mountains was largely silent. Everyone pushed themselves hard, hoping that they could reach the suspected location without too much warning to the Ten Rings flunkies. It was difficult terrain, so finally the team called a halt to the expedition and made a meager camp to rest. Loki put a protective circle around their campsite so that any spells or ranged equipment couldn't locate them. Clint saw how Loki's eyes tracked Natasha, but he made no untoward moves and didn't do or say anything to bring attention to himself. If anything, it was the drawn expression on his face when he looked at Clint or the rest of the team that made Clint wonder what had happened. It was worry, but what for? Did he think someone on the team would harm him if he wasn't useful? Or did he think Natasha would withhold her protection? He knew Natasha said Loki cared for her, but Clint didn't want to believe that. There was an ulterior motive. There had to be.

Because if there wasn't, then Clint would have to consider Loki a permanent fixture, and he wasn't ready to think about that. Right now, he could tell himself it was a job, just like Natasha had told him. He could tell himself it didn't matter what Loki felt, he was just playing SHIELD to be free of Asgard. He could tell himself that Loki was biding his time until he could raze his enemies to the ground. But if he had genuine feeling involved, if he was truly involved and motivated by that connection, it would make him all too human for comfort.

For all of their caution, the team was flushed out when they reached the perimeter of the complex they were approaching. The first clue was a bolt of fire that simply appeared out of nowhere, right on top of the agent in front of Tony. Loki whipped around from his lead position and sang out a spell that snatched the unfortunate agent from the fire, leaving her hair and clothing singed but thankfully nothing else. She stammered her thanks with wide eyes, and everyone else took out their guns. "On alert," Natasha said, voice sharp. Clint knew she hated group missions like this, and preferred working solo or in groups no larger than three. Infiltration was much harder with a larger group.

There was nothing to aim at, but fire burst intermittently out of the ground. Loki had his hands full yanking the agents out of the fires, hands raised and a soft glow beneath his skin. It wasn't the geas activating, so Clint could only assume it was the sheer force of magic trying to exit his body to save them. It was an uncomfortable thought, so he kept an arrow nocked and his eyes scouring the surrounding area to find a target. "I'm going to need to get up high," he called out to the others. "I can't see anything down here."

"Point where you wanna go, and I'll take you there. Stay safe, Legolas," Tony called out, flying over to pick him up.

It wasn't Clint's preferred way to travel, but it got the job done. He managed to shoot down two snipers and had Tony leave him in the second sniper's nest. As high up as it was, he couldn't see _anything_ that might indicate a spell caster. He shot at whatever snipers he could find, but finally he growled into the comms "I can't see a fucking thing, even from up here. No one's casting a damn thing."

"I assure you," Loki replied, voice tight with strain, "someone is indeed on the field. Mortal magic depends largely on line of sight." An explosion went off, a blast of fire and debris that barely missed Tony. Loki cursed in what must have been colorful Asgardian, and Clint could see him whip around to try to take in the field surrounding the compound. "Look for a shimmer. These fools can't cast true invisibility."

It was hard to see, but he thought he could see a wavering edge to the air at the edge of the courtyard, right under an archway leading into the rest of the compound. Clint shot an explosive arrow there, and he saw some of the stone chips from the archway bounce off of nothing.

"Gotcha, you bastard," he muttered, letting loose another arrow.

A wall of flame flew up, intending to interfere and burn the arrow midflight. Loki roared in that same language he had been chanting in, and ice formed right over the wall. Steam hissed up, but Clint's arrow sliced cleanly through the steam without difficulty. The caster screamed when the arrow hit him.

And then Natasha was screaming in the courtyard, fire erupting everywhere at once. Loki bodily threw himself over her, shouting, one arm flung up over them as he tried to ward off the incoming flames. One of the other SHIELD agents began screaming as his clothes caught fire, but this fire couldn't be put out by rolling on the ground. Clint started to swing himself over the edge of his perch, the distance to the ground be damned, but saw Natasha darting away from the inferno. She was intact, thankfully, only part of her hair singed.

Loki, however, was on fire.

He was glowing from the inside, an unearthly blue glow suffusing his skin. He stalked forward as if the fire wasn't harming him, as if his clothes weren't turning to ash. A flick of his wrist sent ice hurtling toward the burning agent, and for a moment Clint wondered if this was where he turned and killed them all.

The agent quieted down to whimpers, ice suffocating the flames and putting them out. Clint could see Natasha darting back into the fray holding a submachine gun she must have liberated from a Ten Rings guard. She took point over the fallen man's body, crouched low to keep herself a smaller target. Clint frantically searched the rest of the courtyard, and he could see Tony blasting at least four Ten Rings guards, and the other two SHIELD agents in combat.

Loki held the spell caster up by the throat, Clint's arrow embedded in his side. He was wearing a gaudy amulet that looked exactly like the one that Clint had destroyed in Mongolia, ten rings of varying colors on all ten fingers of his hands. The geas was activated, and Loki was visibly fighting it to hold the caster in place with one hand and attempt to rip the amulet from his neck with the other. His limbs jerked and his head bobbed; Clint could imagine his greet teeth and manic gaze. That expression still haunted his dreams.

But when Loki turned in a spasm, there was only agony and distress on his face. He sought out Natasha as his hand closed around the amulet, as if she was the only thing that allowed him to stay upright. The spell lines and scars on his pale skin were livid, as if they were burning him from the inside out the way the blue glow had done.

Clint didn't question why seeing this made his gut churn and his chest ache. He let loose an arrow that hit the caster dead center in the forehead just as Loki tore the amulet off of his chest.

There was an explosion, but it was nowhere near the catastrophic damage that Clint barely survived in Mongolia. It was fire and bright light, magnified a thousand fold off of the glittering shards of ice that Loki had left all over the courtyard to put out the fires. The god in question lay on the ground, twitching and spasming as if in the middle of a seizure, the amulet clutched in his hand. It looked like a death grip, and the sight humbled Clint.

He descended carefully from his perch, shooting whoever he had to in order to approach the mayhem safely. By the time he reached Natasha and Loki, his quiver was empty and his pulse raced erratically. He wanted to say that Loki sacrificed himself to save Natasha, but that wasn't so. Loki had acted to save the other agents, and had charged ahead to stop the spell caster. If he had only cared for Natasha, he would have remained lying on top of her. Instead, he was having a grand mal seizure and at least half of his body was burnt to a crisp.

Natasha knelt at his side, a hand on his forehead as if she could stop him from seizing with only her touch. When she looked up at Clint, her eyes shone suspiciously. "It won't stop."

All that she didn't say was still conveyed in her tone. She worried about Loki, she worried about Clint, she still felt obligated to take out the remaining Ten Rings fighters in the courtyard and keep their fellow agents alive. "Go," Clint heard himself say. "Take the rings and the amulet, wrap them up or something. They'll need to be studied in a safe place. I'll stay with him."

She nodded and got up to take the objects and finish the mission. Clint knelt down by Loki's side. The intensity of the seizures hadn't lessened in the time it took to get to him, which had to be what worried Natasha. They did seem to be less intense after she took away the amulet and moved to get the rings. Reaching down, Clint forced Loki's jaws open to be sure he didn't bite off his tongue or choke on it, and he turned him sideways. "Don't die," Clint growled into his ear, holding Loki so he stopped thrashing and beating his head on the stone floor. "She'll never forgive you if you do."

There was nothing to give him for the seizures, so the most Clint could do was hang on until they finally stopped. Tony, Natasha and the two relatively unharmed agents rounded up or killed the Ten Rings fighters that simply refused to stop. The burned agent lay quietly, but his chest still moved. Loki had saved his life with the ice.

It was eerie to be holding onto a sickly looking Loki, his body limp from exertion and the seizure. The blinding geas light was gone, leaving angry red scar lines around his mouth. He looked weak and vulnerable, as broken as when he first arrived in SHIELD's custody. _They took their spells and burned them into my skin,_ Loki had said to him on the rooftop weeks before. Clint hadn't wanted to listen then, had wanted to believe the worst still remained inside him. _They threaded their needles and drew it through resisting flesh._

"I think we're done here," Natasha said finally, coming to his side. She laid a hand on Clint's shoulder, fingertips brushing against the side of his neck. Her eyes were on his face, and she only looked down at Loki when he nodded at her. "Let's go home."

***

Natasha had stayed in Clint's bed after their return from the Ukraine. The fallout was thankfully short but still painful. The molfar they had been looking for had been killed; the spell caster they had fought was not the molfar but one of the Ten Rings' inner circle. The molfar's energies had been funneled into the amulet along with the deaths of the prior agents sent to get him. It had been the catalyst to get the Ten Rings' caster up to a detectable power level for Tony's scanner, but also let him cast fire spells with impunity. The amulet and rings were considered dangerous and would need to be destroyed with Loki's guidance once he gained consciousness.

If he gained consciousness.

In the two weeks of debriefings, he lay silent and still in Medical. Natasha lay in Clint's arms as if he could keep her from sinking under a wave of regrets; he was sure that she considered Loki one of the red names in her ledger now. She had played him and gotten tangled in return, but he had only taken on the caster because of her. Clint tried to tell her in words and with his body that she wasn't at fault; he had to know what he was doing, had to know the risk involved in attacking the caster directly. Clint would have done the same thing to keep Natasha safe, just as she would do the same for him.

She burrowed into his side at night, clutching him close. He told her the truth, always the truth, and she knew he would do that for her. Still, she carried her ledger at all times.

He went with her on her visits to Loki's bedside, as uncomfortable as it made him. He was there for her, just as she was always there for him. His discomfort at this time wasn't necessarily that it was _Loki._ If he was completely honest with himself – which he would rather not be, thank you very much – it had been due to fear that Loki would be more important to her than he was. He had some kind of place in her affections, and no matter how often Natasha told him that their relationship wouldn't change, Clint was always afraid it would. Who was he in the grand scheme of things, after all? He was a human archer, an ex-carnie that fell into the military and SHIELD protocols. He brought her in instead of killing her. He valued her opinion far more than was probably healthy for either of them. Loki carried magic woven into his very being, and had more power than any mortal practitioner could ever dream of having. While he was clearly troubled, he was a meatier puzzle for Natasha to sink into, more of a challenge for her. What kind of hold could he possibly have over her?

But she held onto his arm tightly as they sat side by side in their vigil. Natasha never acted as if he wasn't important. She always looked him right in the eye when she said she trusted him, when she wanted his input. "You matter," she'd always said. They never lied to each other, not about that, and he had to trust her more than his own tortured gut.

When Loki finally opened his eyes and took in a pained breath, Natasha smiled. It wasn't the same kind of smile she had for him after his cognitive recalibration. It wasn't the same kind of secret smile the two of them shared. There was relief, and yes, affection. The intensity was different. And when Natasha looked at him, the smile softened further still. She looked at him the same as she always did, and some of the jealousy seemed to loosen its hold on Clint. "Look who's come back to us," Natasha said, lips quirking slightly.

 _Us._ Because really, the two of them were a pair. Dealing with one inevitably meant dealing with the other.

"Yeah," Clint said, looking over at Loki's wan expression. He could afford to grin amiably at the trickster. He had risked his life for Natasha's, after all. Loki hadn't reneged on his deal with SHIELD. Clint could probably learn to live with him. Probably. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Loki. Good to have to you back."

Loki blinked, perhaps in surprise. "Good to be back, then," he said slowly, his voice a slow rasp.

Clint was sure it would be awkward for a while. But perhaps they could figure out this balancing act between the three of them after all.

The End.


End file.
